


Soul Mates

by cheshirejin



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Other, Zanpakutou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirejin/pseuds/cheshirejin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each Shinigami carries a Zanpakutō, and each Zanpakutō is unique: as the swords are both reflections of a Shinigami's soul and power, and sentient beings unto themselves. The Zanpakutō's name is also the name of the living spirit that empowers the sword and lends its strength to the Shinigami who wields it. These beings can vary greatly in appearance and have their own distinct personalities which match their owner's.  ~ bleach.wikia.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Mates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SonjaJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/gifts).



Yumichika Asagawa sat, studying the other man over a cup of sake. Well, okay it was more like he pinned the other man in place with a cold, piercing stare from his steely, violet eyes. 

How to even begin to respond to the question his drunken comrade had asked…? He wouldn’t. He would just stare him down; problem solved. 

After all, it wouldn’t be good at all to tell the very drunk, unseated member of his own squad to go fuck off… unless he really wanted to waste his time fighting the weaker fellow. There was no glory or even challenge in that. The man was falling down drunk as it was.

Sure, by the generally accepted standard of beauty, his friend Ikkaku was somewhat on the low end of the scale… With his bald head, sharp features and odd taste in eye makeup. But that was only on the surface. And while Yumichika did tend to try to surround himself with beauty as much as possible, his own standard of what qualified as “beautiful” was his own standard and not something that was meant to be understood or appreciated by anyone else. 

Right now, the moron who had dared ask him how he could hang around with the ugly, bald, and scarred Madrame Ikkaku had become the ugliest person ever in his opinion. 

The urge to kill this drunken slob for even suggesting that he was a better judge of what was beautiful was strong in his blood still. No one would stop him, but everyone had heard the question and they were all waiting with baited breath for his answer. He was not going to give them the satisfaction of trying to explain his sensibilities anytime this century. He was not going to give them the expected, violent, response either. No, he would stare coldly at this douche, as if he were some lower life form, and not deign to answer him until the other man got the hint and changed the subject. 

Unfortunately, the longer he stared at the man, the longer he was forcing himself to look at something ugly and he couldn’t keep it up. His natural esthetic sensibilities would not allow it. So finally he was forced to close his eyes and turn away, “I can’t bear it any longer, looking at your ugliness hurts my eyes,” he pouted.

“Hey!” the other man shouted indignantly. He was sure he was better looking than most of his fellow shinigami in the eleventh squad.

There might have even been a fight, but just then Ikkaku walked into the bar. “Oy, Yumi, Captain wants us to go on patrol, what the hell did you do to piss him off?” his smile belied the words and Yumichiks knew he was not unhappy with the prospect of getting out into the lower Rukongai where he might find a fight or two.

How could that man not see the strength and determination that shone from Ikkaku like the rays of the morning sun did off of his bald head? How could anyone miss the grace of the man in battle, the determination of his nature, and the way he never did anything half way? 

Yumichika was not going to waste his time trying to inform him of this, instead, he fell into step beside Ikkaku and they left the bar together. “I think I did say something about needing to organize his paperwork once he finished signing it off,” he said as they walked down the dirt track. “I wonder if that could have had something to do with it.”

Ikkaku threw back his head and laughed, clapping Yumichika on the shoulder. Leave it to Yumi to threaten the most bloodthirsty, fearless man in the universe with paperwork. “One of these days he’s gonna kill you for that sort of thing,” he chuckled.

“I think it amuses him to get rid of me when I start talking paperwork and filing, like he is getting rid of the boring work as well. Otherwise, I imagine he would have run me through with his sword long ago.”

They walked along in companionable silence, Yumichika would occasionally stop and window shop as they made their way through the areas nearest the Sereti. As they got further and further out the goods for sale started to lose any appeal for him, being more utilitarian and less decorative. 

By the third night, they had made it to the thirty third district North Rukongai. Boredom had set in full force. There weren’t any souls in the afterlife stupid enough to attempt to fight or rob the eleventh squad, and no hollows had shown themselves either. 

“This sucks, I am bored off my ass with nothing good to do,” Ikkaku complained as they walked along, heading further north in search of some action.

Yumichika looked around; they were walking a rutted road between patchwork fields most of which were fallow for the year already. He couldn’t think of a reason not to and said, “We could spar if you want, and consider it a high level training exercise.”

Ikkaku smiled wide, that sounded like a good idea to him. He always won against Yumichika when they fought, but it was always interesting too. Pulling his sword, he leaped forward with a mad glee in his eyes and a happy grin on his lips.

Fully expecting it, Yumichika had his own sword out, deflecting the first flurry of attacks with ease. He knew Ikkaku would want to drag this out as long as possible, so he wasn’t bringing it all on from the outset, but he was attacking strongly enough that Yumichika would have to stay on his toes. The fight went on and Ikkaku kept pressing attacks, while Yumichika kept up a strong defence. They hadn’t gotten serious yet and their swords were still in their unreleased state.

Then, at one point there was a long moment when their zanpakuto slid along each other nearly the full length of their blades. Yumichika and Ikkaku stood there, looking each other in the eye and panting as their swords met near the hilts. The voices of their souls cried out in pleasure, sending jolts of sexual energy through each of them. This was new, and wild, and wonderful. They separated and attacked each other with renewed vigor, their zanpakuto building energy with each strike. They could hear their voices ringing out in ecstasy as the personifications of their souls got the much wanted contact with each other. 

Yumichika and Ikkaku broke away from each other, both sweating and gasping for air. Ikkaku took the opportunity to pull his arms clear of his shihakusho and leave the sleeves hanging from the obi tied around his waist, his bare chest glistening with sweat. He wasn’t sure what was going on, other than the obvious, his zanpakuto really liked Yumichika’s. It was all right though, since they liked the clash of steel against steel and so he decided to take the fight up a notch. “Hozukimaru, Grow!” he commanded, slamming his sword into its sheath and gripping it properly for its new, spear like form. 

Yumichika was ready for the first charge and gave his own command, “Fuji Kujaku, bloom for me,” he said, running his hand down the length of his blade as it transformed into its five bladed shikai form. Separating the blades, he had the perfect weapon to catch and turn Ikkaku’s attacks. 

He knew soon he wouldn’t be able to keep up with them, but he was determined to last as long as he could. His entire being was focused on the moment with no room for what if, or what next. Ikkaku could sense that he was winning. He was attacking in an all out frenzy, the look on his face sheer predatory bliss. Finally, he backed Yumichika up against a stone wall, Hozukimaru’s tip touching his throat. 

Yumichika surrendered, knowing that Ikkaku would fight him to the death if he pressed further. He felt a pang of sadness as he sheathed his zanpakuto, but they just weren’t at Ikkaku’s fighting level yet. There was no way he could lose himself in the mad joy that his best friend did, while fighting. He almost regretted that, but then again, even losing to Ikkaku meant he was an opponent he felt was worth fighting. That said something to him.

Ikkaku let his sword take its normal form, and slung it over his shoulder. He caught his breath and tried to ignore it as Hozukimaru whispered things into his brain that he didn’t want to hear, suggestions about what he should be doing, instead of just fighting his feathery friend. Just because their zanpakuto were hot for each other didn’t mean anything fishy was going on between them. Did it?


End file.
